No Good Deed
by Gladrial10
Summary: Harley tries to reverse the effects of her meeting with Renee, ending in mixed results.
1. Chapter 1

_Beta: RisqueSno_

_Spoilers: __**You really should read my fic entitled "Two of a Kind" first.**_

_Disclaimer: DC owns all these characters and WB owns DC and Time Warner owns WB and I'm pretty sure the rest of the world._

_Author notes: This follow-up to "Two of a Kind" came to me almost immediately after I had wrapped up the first fic. I like the idea that the circle of rogues in the Bat-books is so tight and exclusive that you really can't keep much from any of them. And also, I think it important to point out that, of all of them, Harley has something of a heart left…though when comparing her to the rest, I guess that doesn't mean much. _

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No Good Deed: Chapter One

She played his games. She knew them backwards and forwards by now and when he said jump she'd eagerly asked, "How high?" She supposed most people would find it intolerable. Truth be told, even she had moments when it felt like she could barely take anymore.

But then, she had her games too. Of course, they weren't played nearly as often, but she knew that she cherished her few moments far more than he ever did his.

They were playing one of her favorite games right now: Happy Housekeeper. He was completely unaware he was in the game at all as per usual, but that never bothered her.

Harley was dressed in her typical red and black bodysuit with the addition of a frilly apron. She made herself busy in their make-shift kitchen as Joker lounged back in the adjoining room, channel surfing.

In her fantasy, Harley so easily pictured being in a quaint little home in the suburbs with a white picket fence. She'd spend her days making the house presentable for her weary husband to relax in after a long day at the office. With every meal she'd set out biscuits made from scratch.

When she was of clearer mind Harley realized how ridiculous this fantasy was. She had chosen one of the only people on the planet that neither could, nor would, ever give her even a taste of it. Ironically, he's the only man that made the formerly career-dedicated young woman ever think about settling down as a doting housewife. Not to mention she couldn't cook to save her life…and she meant that literally, having the scars to prove it. And why did her fantasy always take place in the 1950s? "Must have watched too much 'Leave It to Beaver' as a child," she'd reflect.

It had taken a lot of practice, but she eventually managed to get three dishes just about perfect. Harley wasn't sure why this particular skill proved so difficult to her, but she'd willingly sacrifice much more time and effort to make her Puddin' happy.

She was in the middle of what appeared to be another successful pot roast when they both heard someone slamming against what had been designated as their front door. The Joker instantly shut off the television and grabbed the gun sitting on a wood crate that Harley had made the coffee table.

"I'll get it," a still stuck in the 1950s Harley sing-songed. She straightened her apron as she made her way to the door.

"No, you idiot!" Joker warned. "No one is supposed to know we're here!"

His warning fell on deaf ears. Harley opened the door to find Two-Face on the other side, larger than life.

"YOU!" he shouted maddeningly while pointing at her. It was more than enough to jolt her back into reality.

Harley slammed the door shut again and stood momentarily frozen with her back against it. With a desperate, "Oy!" she darted back into the kitchen and ducked behind the cabinetry.

Joker heard Two-Face at the door and watched Harley's strange reaction. Being understandably curious, he answered the still insistent banging.

"Harvey! What a pleasant surprise," he greeted the intruder insincerely.

"Can it, clown! I've been tracking you for two weeks. Is it possible for you to stay in the same place two nights in a row?" he complained.

"I'm flattered you'd go through so much trouble for little 'ol me, but I thought your taste leaned more toward lesbo-cops these days."

Two-Face threw him a disgusted look. "I'm here for Harley, you sick freak!"

"Finally!" Joker exclaimed. "I knew if I just waited long enough, someone would eventually come along to take her off my hands. Now the question is price. She's annoying as hell, but she does curve in all the right places." He paused to consider this a moment. "I'm afraid this is going to take some thought. Come back tomorrow and I'll have you an offer."

"Don't play dumb with me!" Two-Face demanded, which left Joker at a loss. The fact was, he had no idea what was going on, but he couldn't let Two-Face know that. Fortunately, Harvey was kind enough to clue him in without his asking.

"That bitch of yours shot Renee! You have another think coming if you think I'm going to just let that slide," he spat threateningly.

Now brought somewhat up to speed, Joker chose his next move. "I'll be with you in just a tic." Then his voice dropped an octave. "And when I return, I expect we'll be watching our language." He wasn't sure why he had to keep reminding everyone that only he had the right to treat Harley as he pleased, but it was irritating.

Joker shut the door behind him, but could still hear Two-Face muffled voice on the other side. "Don't think about trying anything funny. I wasn't stupid enough to come here alone."

Harley was still out of sight. Joker leaned over the cabinetry separating the kitchen from the living area, looking down to find Harley frantically scrubbing the floor.

"Harley, what are you doing?" he asked calmly.

"This floor is really icky and I know how you hate a mess," she responded as though nothing else was going on.

"Uh-huh. Listen, Harl: Who's Renee? Why'd you shoot her and not tell? More importantly, why does our visitor care?"

Harley gave up the scrubbing act, but refused to look at her interrogator. "I did tell you about it. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I lost your happy meal? I told you I had a run in with a cop and you said you were tired of my excuses."

Joker suddenly realized what the issue was. "You shot the lesbo-cop! Are you out of your mind?"

Harley finally looked up at him and tried to explain. "I didn't know it was her! It was dark. I backed off once I figured it out."

"Then she isn't dead?" Joker asked.

"N-no…She's fine." Harley had never seen him _not_ want someone dead before, with the exception of making sure the person was still around so he could handle it personally.

"Good. That's something anyway," Joker muttered. "You are going to go out there and tell him whatever he wants to hear. I don't have the time nor the resources for a war with Two-Face right now, particularly one _you _started."

"But what if he doesn't want to talk?" Harley asked nervously.

"This isn't Croc, Harl. Harvey is smart enough to know better than to lay a hand on you." He then forcibly grabbed her head piece and began to pull her to her feet. "Plus, I don't give a shit," he added as he pushed Harley through the door and followed her out.

"Uh, H-hi, Harv. What's up?" she said innocently, positioning herself as close to the Joker as possible.

At that moment, a panicked, high-pitched scream was heard from deep within the clowns' temporary lair. Joker's eyes lit up and with an excited, "He's awake!", he dashed back inside, leaving Harley on her own.

Harley looked up at the man in front of her and, while not as tall as the Joker, he made up for it in broadness of the shoulder. She figured stalling would only piss him off more and wisely dove into an explanation.

"Alright Harv, it went down like this: Your lady friend was tryin' to bring me in. I had no choice but to defend myself and even then I didn't realize who she was. When I did figure it out, I not only backed off, but helped her home. She's perfectly fine. See Harv? I'm lookin' out for you. I got your back!"

Both Two-Face and Harvey ceased listening to her in the middle of the story, having picked up on the piece most worthy of interest. "You took her home?" he asked for conformation.

"Yes! ...I mean no!" she realized her mistake too late. "What I meant was, I took her to the hospital. Home. Hospital. Those 'H' words get me every time."

"What's the address, Quinn?"

"To the hospital?" she asked hopefully.

"Give me the address and I'll leave. Don't and you'll get to explain to your boss why I'm still around."

Thinking quickly, Harley decided to give him a fake address. Unfortunately, that idea was shot down quickly.

"And it better be the real thing, Quinn. If I find out otherwise, I will track you down again and next time, I won't be so forgiving."

Harley made one last attempt. "As a woman, I feel it only fair to warn you that stalking is not a successful way to get a lady's attention. …Unless that lady happens to be me. It's been such a long time since Mistah J has pursued me. Why, I remember this one time-"

"Christ, do you know how to shut up? No wonder Joker's always trying to ditch you," Two-Face interrupted. "Address! Now!"

Harley, left with no choice, grudgingly gave it up. She was quickly left alone with her thoughts, none of which were pleasant.

Harley wasn't beyond feeling guilt. Lord knows she'd tried to banish its presence from her life. She had different methods for dealing with it, but there were those moments when nothing she did worked.

This was one of those moments.

Harley wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about her betrayal to Renee. After all, what did she owe a cop? Something about her felt like a kindred spirit though and Harley knew if she didn't do something it'd haunt her.

She rushed back inside the hideout with new resolve. "Puddin', I gotta step out. I'll be back soon," she announced while removing her apron. She doubted very much he heard her over the screaming though. _At least he's having a good time_, she thought. _Maybe he won't even notice I've gone._

She quickly set out for Renee's, desperately hoping to beat Two-Face there. Harley thought she had a decent shot at it to, because Harvey wouldn't necessarily set out for her place immediately. Of course Ivy's gift of boosted speed and agility didn't hurt either.

Along with her chosen lifestyle came an intimate knowledge of Gotham City's skyline. With it, Harley expertly danced across rooftops before arriving at Renee's building.


	2. Chapter 2

No Good Deed: Chapter Two

Renee had little room to complain tonight even though she was still getting the hang of the crutches. Her injury had forced her into a temporary desk job. She preferred being more proactive and the paperwork was mind-numbing, but she had to admit she needed a break from the stress that came with working the beat. However, tonight was not about work.

It was her first venture out on the town since being attacked and she took it slow, heading for her favorite hangout. Familiar faces greeted her while she was presented with familiar drinks. One not so familiar face caught her eye.

Renee didn't think she had much of a shot with a busted leg, but it turned out to be a great conversation starter. Her injury led to her profession, which led to some interesting stories and that always did the trick. She never had to tell any of the one's she didn't feel comfortable sharing, so long as it had the taste of the bizarre. The not so familiar face was impressed enough to accompany the detective home and Renee was hoping she'd become real familiar before the night was up.

Unfortunately, she didn't account for the possibility of a ditzy female clown crashing through her window that night.

Harley was speaking so fast it was completely inaudible. Not that either woman would have registered what she had to say anyway. Their brains were too busy trying to come to terms with the scene before them. They were frozen in place, mouths agape, staring at the animated person in front of them as she tried to explain…something.

After looking the spandexed-clad female up and down, Renee's guest finally said, "Listen, I don't know what you thought was going to go down here tonight, but I'm out." She grabbed her things and abruptly left.

Renee saw no point in trying to stop her and explain, mostly because she didn't have an explanation. She took her frustration out on Harley instead.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she demanded

"That's what I was_ trying _to tell you," Harley replied in annoyance. "Here, let me start over." She took a deep breath and started rambling at about ninety miles per hour, "OhmygodYouhavetogonowHeknows whereyouliveandit'snotmyfault…" She went on like this for awhile, but Renee didn't seem to be paying attention.

"Oh god, you know where I live!" the detective realized. "Another kook is following me home."

Harley began grabbing various garments out of drawers, not caring what they were, in an attempt to pack. "YouhavetopackI'llhelpI'magoodpackerI'vehadlotsofpractice…Of course, I know where you live. I brought you home. Remember? Shoesyou''llneedoneandyoucan'tstaywithme…" Harley moved from one subject to another, changing pace with ease.

"I do remember. I just…kinda tried to block out that whole night. I didn't want to think about it," she admitted.

Harley had given up explaining anything until Renee was ready to hear it. "That's the problem with my profession. What the hell is the point of havin' a breakthrough if you are just going to pretend like it never happened?"

"Why are you here again?" she asked, pointedly ignoring Harley's comment.

Harley sighed. "Harv knows you're here," she said simply.

"What! How?"

"I might've…sorta…kinda…_accidentally_ told him," Harley confessed. "I didn't mean to!" she continued before Renee could protest. "He was pretty angry with me, seein' as how I shot you and everything. It just…slipped."

Renee didn't see any point in getting mad. She just sulked instead. "That means I have to move _again_. This will be the third time I've had to change addresses because of him."

Harley tried to get things moving. She didn't know how long they had. "Listen, pack what you need to, but we have to leave evidence that will prove you live here. Otherwise, he'll think I lied and that won't be good. Do you have a place to stay?"

Renee groaned at the thought. "Yeah, I've got a place I can go, but I don't want to. Let's get this over with and for god's sake put on something normal. If you're going to help me, you can't go out like that."

The detective started packing as Harley went into another room to change into something of Renee's. "Don't you have anything…pretty?" she yelled from the other room.

"No!" Renee yelled back.

Harley sighed and threw on a loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "This is so butch," she complained as she emerged in her new garb, before changing subjects. "He would've started a gang war all because of you. How sweet is that? I wish Mistah J would do something like that for me."

Renee decided against pointing out how twisted Harley's idea of a compliment was and, instead, asked the question that had been bugging her. "Why'd you come warn me? Why are you helping me at all?"

"Why didn't you call the cops on me after I got you home?" Harley returned the question. "But to answer you, I'm not sure," she admitted. "…It just felt like the thing to do. This whole thing is kinda my fault."

"Kinda?" Renee encouraged.

"Okay, it's totally my fault. I think I just like that you saw something in someone that everyone else had written off. I can appreciate that."

Renee accepted the answer and was surprised when it occurred to her that she was allowing Harley to help her at all.

"We need to hail a cab," Renee said as they started downstairs. Harley was carrying the suitcase as the detective was having enough trouble with the crutches.

Soon they were sitting side by side in the backseat of the cab in silence. Harley hated uncomfortable silences. "How's the leg?" Harley probed, mostly to make conversation.

"It's getting there," Renee answered simply. Apparently, silence wasn't so uncomfortable to her.

After arriving at their destination, Harley announced, "This place is a dump!"

"I know," Renee agreed. "I told you I didn't want to come here."

They continued upstairs until Renee finally stopped at a particular door and knocked. An overweight, sloppy, and (in Harley's opinion) flat-out disgusting man answered the door, not caring where he was scratching himself.

"Montoya? You alright?" the man asked, surprised to see her.

"I'm fine Bullock, but if it's alright with you, I really need a place to crash."

"Sure thing," Bullock agreed with obvious concern. "But what's the deal…" That's when his eyes fell on Harley and, even though he didn't know the details, he guessed what was going on pretty quickly. Seeing that Renee was unharmed, he felt free to return to his usual self, which typically felt the need to pick on his former partner.

"Did you're boyfriend look you back up? Awww! And look, you're meeting all his little friends," he teased while looking Harley up and down.

"Grow up, Bullock!" Renee shot back.

"I can't leave you with him," Harley said sincerely. "He's all gross! Do you know what a bath is?" she insulted the large man.

"I'm gross?" He turned to Renee incredulously. "She screws the Joker, but I'm gross. That might be the worst insult I've ever gotten."

"Congratulations," Renee smiled at Harley and she smiled back. "But I'll be fine. Me and Bullock go way back."

"Is she staying with us? Because I'm all for that," he insinuated.

"Ewww!" Harley gagged.

"HARVEY! I swear! Shut up and get inside!" screeched Renee, giving the large man a deadly glare.

"His name's Harvey too?" Harley asked amazed. "…Girl, if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is."

"And you can leave now, Quinn. Thanks for your help and never look me up again." Renee pushed past Bullock into the apartment.

"…Are we not taking her in?" Bullock questioned.

"No!" Renee shouted. "I just want to go to sleep and forget this day ever happened."

Bullock shrugged and shut the door, leaving Harley alone in the hallway.

Harley felt the exit was lukewarm but there wasn't much she could do about it. She headed for the roof of the building, changed back into her bodysuit, and once again expertly navigated the rooftops of Gotham back to where she came from.

Before she reentered her temporary home, she could smell something burning. Harley groaned. She hoped Mistah J hadn't tried burning the victim he was playing with when she left. She'd learned the smell of burning flesh tended to linger a long time. It didn't quite match that smell though, she realized. That's when it hit her. "My pot roast!" she exclaimed with panic.

She rushed inside and found her Puddin' towering directly in front of her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had obviously already noticed the state of his dinner because the blackened pot roast had been removed from the oven and was mocking her from the stove top. Harley tried to explain where she'd been, but she realized he wouldn't care and it just came out in a series of stammered syllables.

Joker took her roughly by the arm and escorted her into the kitchen.

"KNEEL!" he bellowed.

Harley didn't know what he was about to do, but as always, did what she was told.

He then opened the oven door, thrust her head inside, and slammed it back over her skull as hard as he could. The oven was still hot and Harley was overwhelmed with pain both from the burning and the impact. The door fell open again and Joker left her there in annoyance.

Her body slumped to the kitchen floor. _Yup, definitely too much 'Leave It to Beaver'_, was Harley's last thought as she drifted out of consciousness.

END


End file.
